


Whatever Lies Before Me

by amazingpages



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Boys Being Boys, Canonical Character Death, Childhood Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Trauma, Friendship, Gen, Kid!Scott, Kid!Stiles, Mentions of Cancer, Mother-Son Relationship, Pre-Canon, Stilinski Family Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 10:35:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/938974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amazingpages/pseuds/amazingpages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year Stiles first meets his best friend Scott, comes to terms with his mother’s illness, and realizes that family isn’t always your own flesh and blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever Lies Before Me

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this fic turned out a lot different than I expected it to. It was meant to be a cute little story of how Stiles and Scott met as children, but it definitely blew up into more than that. That's still the basis of the story, but there's a little more plot woven in.
> 
> I tried to follow the canon storyline as best I could, but there's obviously a lot we don't know, so I just took some liberties when filling in the blanks.

Stiles leans forward in the hard plastic of the chair, swinging his legs back and forth to pass the time. The seats are hard in the hospital, but he’s gotten used to them. His mom hasn’t always lived at the hospital, but ever since her hair started falling out she’s been spending more and more time here, until she finally just moved in.

It seems really nice of Doctor Jim to give her one of his rooms to have all to herself. The hospital is like a big house, and a lot of people live here all the time. Doctor Jim says his mom is special, so she gets to have a room by herself where Stiles can see her anytime he wants instead of just in the afternoons. Besides, the old lady his mom had been in a room with last time liked to watch the shopping channel and Stiles knows his mom would rather watch Animal Planet. She always quizzes Stiles on the kinds of animals that are on TV and tickles him behind his ear if he gets it wrong.

Sometimes he gives her the wrong answer on purpose.

The only thing he doesn’t like is when his mom and dad have “grown-up talks” in her room. Because that is just code for talks-without-Stiles-there. So now he is stuck sitting in this waiting room while his parents talk to Doctor Jim alone. It’s been almost two minutes already and he’s finding it harder and harder to sit still. He’s already eaten the peanut butter crackers his dad has given him, since they probably won’t get dinner until late again tonight.

That is another thing that has changed. Ever since his mom moved to the hospital, they don’t eat good food anymore. His dad swears that french fries are the best food ever, but Stiles thinks his mom’s mashed potatoes are better, and they don’t even need ketchup to taste good.

Stiles’ stomach is grumbling a little at the thought of his mom’s cooking, but his attention is suddenly drawn to the door across the room where a boy comes stomping in. Stiles has never seen any kids here before, it’s usually just old people or someone crying in the corner. The boy looks like he’s about Stiles’ age, but he’s a little shorter and a lot less twitchy. He also doesn’t look very happy when he’s ushered into the room by a woman who has the same dark, curly hair.

“But _mom_ —”

“No, Scott,” the woman says, cutting off the boy’s— _Scott’s_ —whining. “The staff room is needed for a meeting right now and you can’t be in there.”

“Why can’t dad come get me then?”

Scott’s mom sighs. “We spoke about this last night. Dad’s going to be busy for a while since the department is short-handed. I’ve changed my shifts so you only have to be here a couple hours each day.” She leads him over to sit in a chair, then adds, “It’s a perfect time for you to get your homework done, mister.”

Scott tugs on her sleeve in obvious irritation, but ceases his objections. He merely adds, “These chairs don’t spin.”

“I know sweetheart,” Scott’s mom says, crouching down so she’s eye level with Scott. Stiles suddenly feels like he’s intruding on a private conversation, but he can’t seem to look away. His mom used to do just what this woman is doing, brushing Scott’s hair from his forehead and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Now it’s mostly Stiles doing it to her, since his mom sleeps quite a lot during the day, and Stiles can’t help but ache a bit for the loss of that intimacy.

“Just give us an hour and then I’ll take you down to the cafeteria for some dinner, hmm?” she says, lightly pinching Scott’s cheek to get him to smile. “You can even get a slice of cake.”

“Really?” Scott’s eyes light up and he’s suddenly lost the pouting puppy-dog face he’d been sporting before.

“Yes, really,” she says. “But _behave_. I don’t want Leslie coming to get me again because you’ve filled an entire room with inflated rubber gloves. That’s not good for your asthma, anyways.” She suddenly looks worried. “Do you have—”

“Right here,” Scott cuts her off, pulling out his inhaler and waving it in front of her face.

She pats his cheek lovingly before hurrying back out the door. Scott, rather than doing anything that looks at all homework-related, pulls out a book from his backpack with a huge puppy on the front, the title _**ALL ABOUT DOGS**_ emblazoned across the cover.

Stiles watches him for about ten seconds, but his curiosity is beyond peaked. Not only is this the first kid he’s seen in this part of the hospital, but the boy seems to like animals. Stiles loves animals. He surreptitiously hops a chair over, freezes for a few seconds, and then hops to the one beside that, slowly closing the distance of the long row of chairs between them.

It isn’t until he’s three chairs away that Scott seems to take notice and looks over at him. Once eye contact is made, Stiles accepts it as a clear invitation and ditches his hopping method for an ungraceful leap into the chair right beside Scott.

“Hi! I’m Stiles!”

Scott looks hesitant for a moment, but then gives an awkward wave. “I’m Scott.”

“I know! I heard you and your mom talking.” He pokes at the open page of Scott’s book which details the anatomy of a dog’s mouth. “My neighbor’s dog has a tongue way longer than that. I tried to pet him once and his tongue wrapped around _my entire arm_ and almost dragged me through the fence!”

“No way!” Scott says.

“It’s true! My arm was covered in slobber all the way up to here,” Stiles replies, gesturing above his elbow. “It was _awesome_.”

“Wow.” Scott looks dumbstruck. “That must have been scary.”

“It was kinda,” Stiles admits. “But my dad could've saved me. He has a special gun for saving people.”

“Hey, my dad has a gun, too!” Scott pauses for a moment. “I don’t know if it’s special though. He keeps it hidden most of the time.” Scott looks around then leans closer and whispers, “I’m not supposed to know where he keeps it, but I saw him hide it once. He didn’t even notice.”

Stiles nods. “Maybe dads aren’t good at hiding things. My dad always hides my Christmas presents in the same place every year.”

“I love Christmas,” Scott sighs happily, a sappy look on his face. He lifts up his book. “This was a Christmas present last year. It’s my favorite.”

“Cool!” Stiles wishes he had his new book on mammals to show Scott. “My mom always buys me books like that, too. Maybe you could come to my house sometime and see them?”

“I don’t know,” Scott says, hesitant again. “I’m here with my mom a lot. She doesn’t have much time to take me places when my dad’s not home.”

Stiles thinks about this. “That’s okay!” he says after some deliberation, jumping up in his chair in excitement. “My mom lives here now, so I’ll be here a lot, too. I could just bring some to show you!”

“Really?” Scott asks. “I didn’t know anyone lived here!”

“Yeah, she’s really sick, so they gave her a special room where she can get better,” Stiles explains. “She even has her own address! Room 311, BHMH. I’m not really sure what that part stands for though…”

“Oh!” Scott pipes up. “I know! It’s ‘Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital’. Mom has it on all of her ID cards because she works here. Maybe she could help your mom get better!”

“Do you really think so?” Stiles asks. He’d do just about anything to make his mom better. It’s hard to watch her hurt all the time. He can’t ever remember being sick for as long as she has been.

“I’ll ask her tonight after work,” Scott promises.

Stiles can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. It feels large and genuine, the first one in a long while. He feels _happy_. After a few seconds of deliberation he turns to face Scott and asks, “Do you want to be my friend?”

“Only if you’ll be mine!” Scott blurts out quickly.

“Deal!” Stiles says, launching himself at Scott. His arms latch around Scott’s neck and pull him close. “I like to hug a lot,” Stiles admits quietly, as though that might be a deal-breaker.

“That’s okay,” Scott murmurs back, his hands tightening around Stiles’ waist.

It’s definitely the best hug he’s had all week.

***

It turns out Scott's mom is actually really nice. She doesn't seem to mind that Scott doesn’t do his homework when Stiles is there, and she just shakes her head fondly when she finds them playing around in the empty waiting room.

She even brings them lollipops every day, which Stiles loves. And she somehow knows without being told that Stiles can't eat any of the red ones because of the Red40 dye—one time his dad forgot to pick the last red gummy bear out of the package and Stiles had bounced off of the walls for the next ten hours after eating it. It’s like it gave him superpowers because he could _go go go_ , but afterwards the energy always makes him really tired and cranky.

Today he and Scott are playing Army Ranger and doing arm crawls beneath the rows of plastic chairs. Stiles had found an old walkie-talkie set in the garage that used to be his dad's, so they were testing them out.

“Stilinski is on base! _Over_.”

“Where’s base, Stiles? _Over_.”

“Under the magazine table. _Over_.”

Scott crawls over there to join him and they take turns pretending to launch missiles at the different nurses that pass by outside. It starts out pretty fun and innocent, but they wind up curled up in opposite corners of the room, whispering into their walkie-talkies. It turns out the two-way radios are also pretty perfect for sharing secrets.

"Mom got in a fight with dad again yesterday," Scott whispers.

Stiles frowns. "Did you hear what it was about?"

"No." Stiles can hear Scott sigh through the speaker. "But mom called my grandma this morning and talked about them getting separated. Do you know what that means?"

Stiles thinks for a moment. "When Lydia and Jackson used to fight in class last year, Mrs. Pearl would say she was going to separate them and then make Jackson sit in a special chair to be by himself."

"Do you think grandma was trying to separate them so they wouldn't fight?" Scott asks.

"Does your dad have a special chair he has to sit in?"

There's a pause before Scott answers. "He has his Lay-Z-Boy. He's the only one that sits there."

"That must be it," Stiles assures him. "I bet your dad just needs time in his chair."

"Oh, okay. Good." Scott sounds relieved. After a few minutes of just their breathing over the radio, Scott asks, "Is your mom feeling better today?"

Stiles frowns. He thought his mom was doing better before—she'd even been able to eat an entire bowl of soup last week without getting sick. But today was the third time in five days that Stiles got directed into the waiting room while Doctor Jim talked to his parents alone.

"I don't know," he answers finally. "She doesn't talk as much as she used to, and when I read her my books from school now she falls asleep before I'm done." His voice gets even quieter when he adds, "She's never done that before."

While Stiles is talking, Scott crawls his way across the room and is now sitting beside him. Their knees are pressed together and Stiles rests his head on Scott's shoulder.

"It'll be okay, Stiles," Scott whispers into the walkie-talkie pressed to his mouth.

Stiles nods, sniffing hard to keep the tears away. "Roger that," he whispers back.

***

Every day when school gets out, Stiles has a routine. He finds Scott outside in the bus lot and they get a seat together—they’d realized a week after meeting at the hospital that they take the same bus to school and their classrooms are right next to each other—so they can talk on the ride home. Scott lives closer, so his stop comes first. They always hug and promise to meet up at the hospital later.

Then Stiles spends the next ten minutes alone in his bus seat, trying to count the trees speeding past, or thinking about what he will tell his mom about school that day. When the bus reaches his stop, he’s already toeing the white line at the front before the bus completely stops. He likes to leap off the last three stairs, even though the bus driver scolds him for it every day.

By the time he rushes through half of his homework and crams a handful of oreos into his mouth, his dad is usually home and they drive to the hospital to see his mom. Sometimes his dad even lets him sit in the front seat of the cruiser. The hospital gives his mom sponge baths three times a week, and today is one of those days. Stiles can smell the fresh soap on her, and her skin is so soft to touch.

His mom is almost always asleep now, but she usually wakes up for a little while when Stiles and his dad come to visit. It’s been thirty minutes since they got there, and his dad has gone to buy them some dinner from the cafeteria. Stiles is tracing out gentle letters into the skin of her wrist, to spell out _Stilinski_ , when he sees her stir.

“Mom?” he sits up in his chair, excited.

“Hey, baby.” Claudia smiles, turning her head to face Stiles as she opens her eyes.

Stiles’ face lights up; he’s happy that she’s finally awake. “I missed you today.”

“I know, love.” She pats the bed beside her gently, and Stiles wastes no time scrambling up to curl in beside her, careful of the tubes and cords in the way. He rests his head gently on her shoulder and breathes in a sigh of relief as she wraps her arm around him. Sometimes it feels like his body can’t relax until he’s cuddling with his mom. She always knows just how to rub his back to sooth him, which songs to sing, how to brush his hair back just right.

She’s doing that now, pushing his hair off to the side so it doesn’t cover his forehead, tucking it over his ear as he tells her about how pretty Lydia looked in her new dress at school today. After he’s exhausted his chatter, he pushes his face into his mom’s neck while she hums absently and they just enjoy each other’s company.

Stiles wiggles a little when she tickles him behind his ear like she used to. He looks up and sees his dad watching them from the doorway, his expression fond. His mom kisses Stiles’ forehead and then nudges him to go and take the food his dad has brought up. Stiles brushes a gentle kiss on her cheek before hopping off the bed. He sits and eats a soggy ham sandwich and an apple while his mom and dad speak quietly, their heads bent close together.

***

Later on, once they are home from the hospital, Stiles is upstairs brushing his teeth as he examines himself in the mirror. His mom mentioned earlier that his hair was getting long again and Stiles realizes he’s been brushing it out of his eyes constantly for the past week. Usually his mom cuts his hair at home, but she’s been so sick lately and his dad has been busy with work.

Stiles can hear his dad downstairs watching a baseball game on TV, so he sneaks into his parents’ bathroom to retrieve the hair shears from under the sink. He figures he’ll surprise his mom tomorrow with a fresh haircut, just like the ones she used to give him. He’s seen her do it enough times that he knows what to do.

It’s apparent after a few minutes, however, that cutting his own hair is harder than it looks. One side is significantly shorter than the other, chunks of hair are missing all over, and he can’t seem to cut the front in a straight line no matter how hard he tries. Pretty soon he’s covered in loose hair, and his haircut looks nothing like it does when his mom cuts it. Stiles is suddenly overcome by sadness as he realizes he’s doing it all wrong. Nothing is the same now that his mom is back at the hospital again, and he can’t seem to do anything right. He just wants to do one nice thing for her and now it’s all messed up.

In a fit of anger, he throws the scissors into the sink and turns away from the mirror, unable to look at the chaos on his head right now. He moves to sit on the floor, and pulls his knees up to his chest, rocking back and forth and trying not to cry. But it seems he’s reached his limit, because tears stream down his face, little hiccups making their way up his throat as he holds back sobs.

“Stiles?” His dad is standing in the doorway, and Stiles tries to turn away from him, upset at being caught in his failure. “Stiles, what is all this?”

“I-I just...I wanted to look nice for mom,” Stiles explains, his words jumbled up in his tears. He can’t seem to stop crying, even when he pulls up the collar of his t-shirt to wipe his face. He can see the frown his dad directs at him, and when his dad crouches down to pull Stiles into his lap, Stiles just cries harder. He loops his arms around his dad’s neck, sobbing into the worn out Dodgers shirt.

“Shh,” John soothes, running his hand under the back of Stiles’ shirt to rub comforting circles into his bare skin. That helps a little, but Stiles is still shaking in his arms, little whimpers escaping periodically as he tries to calm down.

“I thought if I…” Stiles starts, but he doesn’t know what to say. _If I looked good it would make mom happy and she would get better?_ Or maybe _If I did better at school she wouldn’t worry as much and then she wouldn’t be so tired all the time?_ There are so many warring emotions running through his mind and he doesn’t know how to process it all.

His dad nuzzles his nose against Stiles’ temple. “It’s okay, son.” He rubs his hand over the remaining locks of hair sticking up on Stiles’ head. “We can fix it.”

As Stiles’ tears subside, his dad urges him to stand up and then pulls out some electric clippers from under the sink. His dad runs his hands through Stiles’ hair and then smiles at him in the mirror.

“What’d you get into a fight with this time?” John asks.

It’s an old game between the two of them. Whenever Stiles shows up looking dirty, or tired, or covered in grass stains, his dad always asks him what animal he fought with to look such a mess. The question has been posed so many times that Stiles has run out of normal animals to supply and has begun getting creative with his answers.

Stiles smiles faintly. “A werewolf?” he offers.

His dad chuckles and flips the switch to turn on the electric clippers. “I sure hope the werewolf looks worse than you do,” John says teasingly. He begins at the back of Stiles’ head, running the clippers gently against the hair, careless of the mess it’s making on the bathroom floor.

Stiles tries to nod in affirmation, but his dad has a firm hold on his head as if knowing Stiles won’t keep still. It only takes a few minutes for his dad to shear off the remaining hair, and pretty soon Stiles is standing before the mirror with a fresh buzz cut. He runs his hands hesitantly over the stubble on his head, not sure if he likes having his hair this short.

“What if mom doesn’t like it?” Stiles asks quietly, his forehead creased with worry.

His dad shakes his head and kneels down in front of Stiles, holding Stiles’ face between his hands. “Your mom loves you no matter what, Stiles. You’ll _always_ be special to her.”

Stiles is pulled into a hug, and only once his face is hidden in his dad’s shoulder does he find the nerve to ask the question that’s been in the back of his mind all night.

“Mom isn’t coming back home, is she?”

It’s quiet for several minutes. Belatedly, Stiles registers dampness on his shirt and realizes his dad is crying. “No, Stiles,” John whispers. “I don’t think she is.”

***

Stiles sleeps with his dad that night, curled up on his mom’s side of the bed with his dad holding him close. It doesn’t make the pain go away, but he thinks that maybe he hurts a little less in the morning.

For the next week, Stiles only sees Scott on the bus rides to and from school. Scott’s dad is back for a short break, so he doesn’t have to hang out at the hospital until his mom gets off of work. Stiles didn’t realize how much much of a constant Scott was in his daily life until he was gone for a whole entire week.

When Stiles walks into the waiting room the next Monday, he is surprised to see Scott sitting in a wheelchair, rolling it back and forth across the newly-buffed floors.

“Scott!” Stiles cries, running over. He leaps on the wheelchair to give Scott a hug, heedless of the fact that they go skidding across the floor in the runaway chair.

Scott’s giggling is heard from somewhere around Stiles’ left armpit and the wheelchair comes to a stop when it hits the wall on the other side of the room.

“Where did you find this?” Stiles asks. He squishes onto the seat beside Scott and then turns only one of the wheels, sending them into a set of dizzying circles.

“It was in the supply closet when I helped my mom carry refills of supplies to the rooms earlier. She said I could use it if I was careful and nobody needed it.”

There is a pause during which both of them look at each other slyly and then Scott asks, “Want me to show it to you?”

“Yeah!” Stiles jumps out of the chair and runs around to the back of it. “Hold on!” he cries. He sets off at a run, pushing Scott fast and then riding the momentum on the back of the wheelchair. They race through the barren halls as Scott gives Stiles directions to the supply closet. When they reach it, they abandon the wheelchair outside and rush in, stopping for a moment to admire the room full of shelves covered in every medical supply they can imagine.

“This is awesome!” Stiles yells. He runs immediately for the crutches he sees leaning against the wall. He’d had to use a pair when he fractured his leg two years ago, and it was the best part about wearing a cast, in his opinion. But he was forced to give them back to the hospital when he’d healed.

Scott shows him how to adjust the crutches so they are at the tallest setting and then then race around the room on them, weaving in between the shelves while their legs dangle high above the floor.

“This is so much fun,” Scott says, breathless from the last round. He takes a puff of his inhaler and leans back against the shelf.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asks.

Scott nods. “Yeah. Let’s just do something where I don’t have to run for now.”

“Like what?” Stiles looks around the room, searching for ideas.

Scott jumps up. “I know!” He runs over to a corner of the room and comes back with an armful of ACE bandages. “Want to mummify me?” The grin on his face is gleeful.

Stiles laughs loudly and eagerly accepts the rolls of bandages. Scott holds out his arms like a scarecrow and Stiles starts with those, wrapping them carefully so no skin is showing between the bandages. From there, he moves on to Scott’s chest, torso, and legs, before finishing with a bandage wrapped loosely around his head.

“How do I look?” Scott asks. He mimes a mummified zombie, walking stiffly towards Stiles and making scary grunts.

“Wow!” Stiles says. “You look—”

“Like you’re in big trouble, mister.”

Both boys whip around and see Scott’s mom standing in the open doorway, her hands propped on her hips. She’s fighting back a smile after a glance at Scott, but she persists in raising her eyebrows and tapping her foot ominously.

“I want this mess cleaned up and put away in ten minutes, boys.” She then looks straight at Scott. “We’ll talk about this later.”

Stiles waits until she walks back out of the room before asking, “Are you going to get in trouble?” He looks worried as he starts to unwrap Scott.

“Nah,” Scott says. “Sometimes she says I can’t play video games for a week but then she just forgets about it the next day.”

“Your mom sounds really nice.” Stiles carefully rolls up the bandages and hands them to Scott to reshelve.

“She is. She’s the best.”

***

Scott _does_ wind up getting his video game privileges revoked, but he’s right about his mom being forgetful. The only thing she actually remembers each and every day is to bring a lollipop for each of them. Stiles is pretty happy about that.

It’s a slow day today, and he’s laying on the waiting room floor with Scott, looking through the medical magazines and trying to find the silliest-looking words. Their favorite so far is ‘CAT scan’ since the idea of a cat in the hospital is endlessly amusing. They’re making _meow_ sounds and giggling when Stiles glances up at the sound of his name. His dad is walking towards them and squats down when he gets close enough.

“There’s been a pile-up on the other side of town, Stiles,” John says. “I have to head over there for a little while.”

Stiles scrambles up. “Is everyone okay?”

“They just need some help cleaning up the mess, son.” Stiles can tell his dad isn’t telling him everything, but he lets it go.

“Can I come?”

His dad shakes his head. “No, you stay here with Scott. I’ve already let his mom know, so she’ll keep an eye on you until I get back.”

Stiles is a little upset at being left behind, but he also realizes that means nobody is having grown-up talks in his mom’s room.

“Can I go see mom?” Stiles asks, his eyes pleading.

His dad sighs. “Only if you promise not to wake her up if she’s sleeping.”

“I won’t!” Stiles promises. “Really, I won’t!”

“Alright,” John says. “I’ll take you over there on my way out.” He looks over at Scott, who has been sitting there quietly. “You okay in here alone, Scott?”

Scott nods and Stiles sends him a thankful smile. Scott knows how much Stiles misses spending time with his mom on his own.

It turns out that she _is_ sleeping, so Stiles curls up in the abandoned chair at her bedside, watching her silently. He misses the days when he didn’t have to worry about his mom being okay. Sometimes it’s hard, especially when he sees Scott’s mom, who is always so attentive even though her work keeps her incredibly busy. It’s hard for Stiles to see his mom so weak, not even able to feed herself, or even eat most of the food she’s fed.

He wishes he could do more for her. He also wishes he didn’t have to say goodbye. After the incident with his haircut, Stiles and his dad had talked a few times about what was to come. Most of the time, Stiles prefers not to think about it. The idea of his mom being gone forever only leaves him feeling miserable and upset for hours on end. He just wants to be with her while she is here.

“Stiles?”

Stiles stands up, leaning over the edge of the hospital bed to take his mom’s hand. “I’m here, mom.”

“Stiles,” Claudia says again, a weak smile on her lips. In the dim lighting of the room, Stiles can see that her eyes are only half-open, as though it’s too much effort to widen them all the way. “Is your dad still here?”

Stiles shakes his head. “No. He had to go help some people,” he tells her. “But he’ll be back soon. Do you need me to get a nurse?”

Stiles moves to press the nurse call button, a button he’s pressed too often in recent weeks, but his mom’s grip on his hand tightens in objection.

“No,” Claudia says. Her voice has grown smaller, and Stiles has to lean closer to hear her. “Just...just listen.”

“Okay.” Stiles is beginning to worry. His mom isn’t usually this feeble, pushing her words out as though it’s a terrible chore. He moves to sit up next to her, holding her thin hand between his smaller ones.

His mom is looking up at him through her lashes, her brown eyes dull. “I want you to take care of your dad, baby.”

“Yeah, mom,” Stiles agrees. “I will. Family is forever.” It’s been their motto for as long as he can remember, and the Stilinskis live by it. Family has always been the strongest bond between them, and though their family is small, it’s held them together through everything. Somehow though, saying it now, Stiles feels like it’s a goodbye.

It feels like forever ends today.

“That’s right, baby,” Claudia says. She smiles. “And even when family isn’t right here, they’re always in your heart.” She presses her hand against his chest, and Stiles is sure that she can feel his heartbeat. It’s pounding loudly in his chest, and he can’t seem to make it stop. “Remember that, okay?”

Stiles nods quickly. “I will, mom. I promise.”

“Good boy.” She leans her head back onto the pillows, taking a labored breath. “I love you, Stiles.”

“I love you, too, mom.” Stiles can’t bring himself to look away from her, but she’s already shut her eyes again. After a few moments, her grip on his hand becomes lax and Stiles starts to shake.

“Mom?” He squeezes her hand. This isn’t like her falling asleep in the middle of conversations. She’s done that dozens of times, but this feels different. His mom looks so still and Stiles is panicking. He presses the nurse call button, even though his mom told him not to.

“Mom?” he asks again, his voice getting louder.

A nurse hurries into the room, but after taking a glance at the bed, she immediately walks back out, yelling for a doctor. This just freaks Stiles out even more and he starts calling out for his mom over and over.

“Mom!” Inside, he knows what the nurse knew at one glance. But he refuses to believe that his mom is gone. It _can’t_ happen now. He hasn’t had enough time. She’s leaving too early. His dad isn’t even here to say goodbye. Stiles should have told her to wait, to give them more time. His eyes are overflowing with tears now and he’s yelling for her, gripping his mom’s hand far too hard.

“Momma, please come back! _Please_!” he cries, pushing away a nurse who tries to pull him off of the bed. “No! I can’t leave her! She _needs_ me!” He doesn’t say what he really means: that _he_ needs _her_.

It takes three nurses and a small shot of sedation to calm him down enough that they can get to Claudia, and by then Stiles is wrung out. He sits back in a chair as the bustling in the room increases, watching it all in a haze. A time of death is marked aloud and suddenly Stiles doesn’t want to be anywhere near there anymore.

He slips silently out of the room, unnoticed by the group of employees surrounding his mother’s bed. After pausing for a moment in the hall, he turns left instead of right. Normally he’d go sit with Scott in their waiting room, but he can’t bring himself to face that right now. He doesn’t want to see Scott, or watch as Scott’s mom peeks her head in periodically to smile at them and make sure they’re alright. He just wants to be left alone.

Stiles isn’t sure how far he walks until he finds another empty waiting room. But as soon as he gets there it’s as though any energy his body had left seeps right out of him. He collapses gracelessly into a chair and leans forward to put his head in his hands. The sobs wracking his body are silent as images of his mother’s still form race through his mind.

That’s how his dad finds him later, curled in on himself, tears and snot smeared across his face. When Stiles feels the familiar hand on his shoulder, he can’t bear to look up into his dad’s face, to see the resignation there. He simply lets himself be pulled onto his dad’s lap and they cry together on the hard chair of the waiting room.

***

Stiles is sitting on his parents’ bed, curled up with the pillow that still smells of his mom’s perfume, as he watches his dad put on the only black suit he owns. His dad only ever pulls out that suit for happy events, like Date Night, or a wedding. But today isn’t happy. It is quiet, and suffocating, and endlessly sad.

It will be the first funeral Stiles has ever been to. He is scared. His dad has explained everything that will happen, and what they will do, but that doesn’t help much. Knowing that his mom will be in a box less than ten feet away from him and he won’t be able to see her ever again is filling him with despair. He looks up and sees his dad staring back at him in the mirror. Stiles glances away, but his dad has already seen his tears. He can hear his dad walk over and settle onto the bed beside him, wiping away the tears on his cheek with one calloused thumb.

“I know this is hard,” John says on a sigh. “And it’s okay to cry.”

“Do I have to go?”

Stiles already knows the answer. And he knows he’ll go anyways, because there is still a small part of him that thinks maybe if he wishes hard enough then his mom will be there waiting for him, smiling and healthy again, like this is all some elaborate joke. It’s silly, he knows that, but he hasn’t seen his mom since she’d stopped breathing in the hospital three days ago, and his wishes are all he has left.

“I need you to be brave, son.” John says, pulling Stiles close in a side hug.

“I don’t know how,” Stiles answers in a small voice.

He doesn’t know how to be brave when his eyes are constantly itchy with unshed tears, when his heart feels like it is being ripped in half, when he has a gaping hole inside of him that won’t ever be filled. And during a time like this, when he feels so unsure and upset, the first place he runs is always his mother’s arms. But she isn’t here anymore. How can he be brave without her?

His dad walks over to the dresser and picks up the badge he pins onto his uniform each morning. He then kneels down in front of Stiles and unbuttons Stiles’ suit jacket—the jacket that is too loose, that his mother had bought a size larger because “her boy is just growing so fast”—and pins it on the inside lining so it rests right against Stiles’ heart.

“Whenever I put on this badge, I remember that I am strong. I can do anything I need to do. Sometimes I don’t like it, but I do it because it’s the right thing,” John says. “Being brave is hard, especially when you’re sad, but that’s why we’re together. So we can help each other when we’re sad. We can be strong for each other.”

Stiles peeks up from where he’d been staring at the floor. “Like a team?”

“Exactly like a team,” John says.

Stiles considers this. “Like Batman and Robin?”

John chuckles, but the laughter doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yes. Just like that.” He ruffles Stiles’ hair affectionately. It’s grown out a bit since his dad had shaved it off a week ago. “Which one are you?”

“Batman, of course!” Stiles replies, affronted. He’s still scared, but inside he feels a little spark of hope. If he’s Batman, then surely he _can_ be brave. Batman isn’t afraid of anything! Stiles can feel the metal of his dad’s badge warm against his chest, and it provides a comfort he didn’t know he needed. Stiles stands up, his legs far less wobbly than they were when he’d scrambled into the room earlier.

“I’m going to be brave like Batman,” he informs his dad.

“That’s my boy,” John says.

***

The funeral goes by faster than Stiles expects it to. He thought it would be an endless procession, but in reality it takes less than an hour. He’s standing by his dad later, clutching his hand as they stand at the door of the reception hall afterwards. People keep walking by them to offer their condolences. It seems weird to Stiles that all of these people loved his mom, too, but it also helps a little to know that he isn’t the only one saying goodbye.

About half of the line has come through when Scott and his mom are suddenly there. Scott walks forward hesitantly and pulls Stiles into a hug. Stiles hugs him back, grateful to have someone else there who he actually recognizes through his haze of tears. They stand like that for a long time, arms wrapped tightly around one another. When they pull back, Scott draws a small plastic koala out of his pocket. He holds it out to Stiles.

“I brought you this. I know they’re your favorite, because they hug things a lot.”

“Thanks,” Stiles says, accepting the toy with a small smile. He looks up at his dad. “Can we go sit in the waiting room? I saw it at the end of the hall.” He’d do just about anything to escape the sadness permeating the room around him.

His dad pauses to glance over at Scott’s mom, before giving them a nod of approval.

It feels like a special moment, as he and Scott run off by themselves, like maybe he’s not always going to feel so alone. Scott is by his side, holding his hand tightly, and it’s reassuring. Stiles thinks that perhaps family can be more than just people who are related to you.

When they reach the waiting room and he looks over, Stiles sees the same hope reflected on Scott’s face, too.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it, even though it's kind of sad. Please let me know what you think of it, and definitely give me a heads up if I forgot any tags! Thanks for reading. :)
> 
> Come visit me on [tumblr](http://miss-emrys.tumblr.com/)!


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